


Thor

by atsuyuri_sama



Series: And I Must Scream [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Flashbacks, Insomnia, Language, Multi, Nightmares, PTSD, Unbeta'd, careful!Jane, implied abused!Darcy, non-responsiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsuyuri_sama/pseuds/atsuyuri_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor was raised to do this: be a warrior, be a protector, be a king. He knows how to handle pressure without breaking. That doesn’t mean that he’s emotionless, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Code Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane’s been invited into the Tower – she and Darcy (because Jane does not move without her faithful assistant, ever) had been ecstatic. The team is so sweet, and Thor seems to really fit with these strange, wonderful people. Just… she wished she’d gotten a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This does take place before Tony’s set in the series, even though it’s written after – it’s not a huge detail, but concerning the second of Thor’s chapters, it does make a slight difference. Just FYI.
> 
>  **ETA 4/5/14:** Minor changes to JARVIS's speech patterns.

“Lady Jane! Lady Darcy!”

The enthusiastic and adoration-infused greeting could only have come from one person, and Jane and Darcy both accordingly braced themselves. The muscle-bound form of Thor loped through the elevator doors and scooped up Jane in a tight, warm embrace, with the added bonus of a heart-felt kiss. He approached Darcy more sedately, and embraced her more carefully, though his expression was just as joyous at her presence as Jane’s, before settling back on his feet and grinning fit to light up a room. “It is a most auspicious occasion that you have finally moved into the Tower, at last! Anthony has kindly made use of his manservant-who-lives-in-the-ceiling, JARVIS, and has prepared a mighty feast for this thing. Come, and learn my shield-brethren as I have!”

Eagerly, he ushered them both passed the communal floor, and requested JARVIS take them to the Party Room in the Pent House Suite. The elevator moved, with a smooth, “Of course, Master Thor.”

“‘Master’ Thor?” Darcy quipped, covering a minute flinch at the sudden voice with wit.

JARVIS answered evenly, “Of course, Miss Lewis. I have been programmed with the utmost in manners, in spite of the rather crude nature of my ‘father’; for sir I retain vast skill-set in sarcasm. Unless otherwise directed, I utilize title and name when addressing or referring to a person. Sir is, again, one such exception. Master Thorhas given me blanket-permission to utilize whichever address I deem befitting the situation.”

“Pssh!” Darcy snorted, relaxing when Jane gently bumped shoulders, “In that case, Jeeves, call me Darcy. ‘Miss Lewis’ is the Agent’s nickname for me.”

“Of course, Miss Darcy,” JARVIS agreed, a note of amusement in his electronic voice. “In the same vein, may I request _you_ use _my_ name? ‘Jeeves’ is so very… droll. Not to mention that I can do far more than any _human_ butler.”

Darcy grinned cheekily at the camera in the corner, “Gotcha. No insulting the man who can ensure all my showers go cold. And you don’t have to be as formal as ‘Miss' even, if you don’t want to.”

“I find proper address to be rather soothing. Still, I think you and I shall be getting along just fine, Miss Darcy. And you, Dr. Foster? Do you have a preference?”

“Ah, um, well—I… not really, I guess, JARVIS? It doesn’t matter much,” she stuttered, not having expected JARVIS to address her directly. “Jane works as well as anything.”

“Very well, Miss Jane,” JARVIS responded. With a grin in his voice, JARVIS teased, “We have arrived at the Pent House. Please leave all hands and feet inside the ride at all times; avoid sir near the bar if you wish to maintain any level of sobriety; do not provoke any of the SHIELD agents into contests of skill if you value life, limb, and dignity; and please – do make yourselves at home.”

“Did Stark put you up to that, JARVIS?” a young man with honey-brown hair and pale eyes cackled as the trio arrived. He was perched impossibly on the top of the entertainment system, balancing on the slim piece of wood like he belonged there.

“Sir did not, Master Clint. I _am_ capable of my own sarcasm, as I know you are well aware,” JARVIS insisted wryly. Clint beamed up at one of the cameras for a moment, cheesy and over-done.

Then, winningly, he grinned down at Jane and Darcy. “Hey! Name’s Clint. I’m Agent Barton, also known as Hawkeye. I remember you two from New Mexico – never seen two more kick-ass women-who-aren’t-Natasha. Nicely done. Kept your cool _and_ managed to yell at Coulson.”

“Personally, Clint, I really don’t think that these two managing to yell at me – for _legally requisitioning_ their things for SHIELD, as a matter of fact – is anything special to be noted. Misunderstandings like that happen all the time, without the proper clearance levels,” a composed man in an immaculate suit, close-cropped dark hair, and bright eyes murmured, looking flatly up at Clint. He turned his gaze to the women, and nodded. “We have met before, but for courtesies’ sake: Agent Phil Coulson, handler of the Avengers, Level Eight Clearance SHIELD official.”

Jane nibbled on her hair for a moment, before she nodded to herself and stepped forward, “I got my things back, and my research intact. Even if I now have to work under mum-orders for the bowels of the agency that interrupted me in the first place, I can still _work,_ and I can see Thor. No hard feelings, Agent Coulson?”

A faint smiled pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he shook his head, moving forward and firmly grasping Jane’s offered hand, “None, Dr. Foster, none at all. I admire your dedication to your work, by the way. I would have said so earlier, but it would have been inappropriate to say when I was in the process of appropriating your life’s work.”

Jane blushed and smiled, stepping back into Thor’s waiting arms. Darcy took her place, her own gaze still firmly critical. Her arms crossed over the _top_ of her chest – showing displeasure without using her assets, though Phil read a well-hidden tension in spite of the confident move – and went still, waiting. Finally, she held out her own hand in a wordless palm-up demand.

Suddenly, he cracked a smile. His smile grew, flashing teeth and surprising everyone, and a small huff of disarming laughter escaped his mouth. Darcy’s own lips pulled up, genuine even as it was cautious. Phil reached into his suit jacket, and withdrew a matte white StarkPod. He dropped it into her palm. She stared at him, trying to appear unmoved, though her shoulders softened the slightest fraction.

“It’s the latest model, not even on the market yet – part of the perks of living with the designer. It has all your old songs, triple the memory, and comes with three-hundred dollars worth of spending money, credible to any and all purchases that can be made on it,” Coulson informed her, once more immaculate. “There wasn’t much I could do about your iPod – unlike Dr. Foster’s things, it didn’t hold any research, so was destroyed along with your phone to prevent the footage and audio from getting out. I hope this makes up for it.”

Once more, her eyes moved between the peace-offering and the agent. Then she shifted the StarkPod into her back pocket, and her smile widened a fraction. She nodded, and offered a closed fist to Phil. His eyebrow sought his hairline, but he fist-bumped the brunette woman. He knew better: overtures of friendship on her part were rare. “Thanks for keeping tabs on my stuff, Agent-Man,” she hummed. “You’re maybe not so bad, for a boot-jacked, secret agent suit.”

“He is good at keeping his promises, Miss Lewis,” a redhead who’d sidled up from a corner hummed, hands on her hips. She looked Darcy up and down in the same way the brunette had looked over Phil a few moments before, but more intense – she didn’t miss a thing. Her gaze flickered over Jane as well. “I am Agent Romanov, and the Black Widow.”

Darcy’s grin was brighter, even if her body language was still quietly defensive. Faced with a woman like the Black Widow, and she somehow she approached without a flinch, unintentionally impressing the agents. “Hi, I’m Darcy Lewis. I mean, you knew that, obviously, but… that is, you’re cool. You’re strong, and don’t let anyone take advantage of you; I like that.”

She reached forward and – pulling back only once, before solidifying her resolve – grabbed Natasha’s hand, holding on carefully and looking up from under her eyelashes with nothing less than hero-worship. Under Natasha’s shadow, she was still stiff, but not as much as when Phil’s or Clint’s attention had been on her. Natasha was no stranger to body language – reading it accurately was her _job_ – and she glanced at Phil and Clint for confirmation that this really was happening.

When both men discreetly nodded at her, expressions carefully blank, Natasha turned her attention to the shorter brunette again. “Thank you, девочка[1]. There are not many with the courage to speak candidly to my face.”

Darcy smiled shyly, even as she fled back to the familiarity of Jane’s side. A man with glasses and dark, mousy hair stepped forward with a cautious smile, and greeted the women, “My name is Bruce Banner – I work in the labs here, when I’m not… ah, putting the Other Guy – Hulk – into play. I assume you’ll be working in a lab of your own, Dr. Foster, and working as her assistant, Miss Lewis? Since all the private labs are on one floor, we will probably be seeing a lot more of one another. I hope we become good friends.”

Jane beamed at her fellow scientist, moving forward to shake his hand. He flinched as she drew close, unused to people taking to him so quickly, and she carefully backtracked in deference to his comfort, though she was still smiling. “I’m sure we will, Dr. Banner – and please, call me Jane.”

Smiling widely, Darcy nodded, keeping to herself as well, “’Course we will, Doc! You sciency-types tend to get along like bread and butter, if you don’t hack one anothers’ theories apart from the get-go. You ‘n’ Jane’ll manage fine. And there’s nothing between us to start a fight, right? You can call me Darcy.”

Though his shoulder’s remained slightly hunched, nervous about bringing new people in the Other Guy’s range, Bruce’s smile grew at the warm welcome, and he nodded agreeably. Before he could warm up more to them, Tony Stark – the beaming, well-dressed, strutting figure could only be the self-proclaimed Iron Man – swept into the room. “JARVIS, honey, baby – the party can’t start without me! You know that. Hello, ladies! Tony Stark, Iron Man, owner of this Tower, member of the Avengers, and official requestor of your permanent presence here, for our local Norse god.”

He grinned saucily at the new guests in his Tower, still in paparazzi-mode, though he was dropping out of it even as he peeled his jacket off. When it revealed a worn Metallica t-shirt, Darcy crowed with thrilled laughter. Tony’s face grew thoughtful. “I like this one. You did good, picking out your groupy-girl, Thor,” he praised with a smirk.

Easily, Darcy returned it, with interest. “Watch it, playboy. I don’t play keeps for just anyone.”

“Of course not. JARVIS, everyone’s here who’s gonna be here: start the tunes!”

Much to Jane’s surprise, and Darcy’s eternal joy, the two newcomers blended in quite well – even if the former did so by sticking to the shadow of her other-worldly beau, and the latter by consuming nearly as much alcohol as Tony, with (amazingly) a slightly larger tolerance – with the odd-ball team known as the Avengers. The welcoming party lasted well into the night.

**-AIMS-**

Jane was roused from her sleep by a semi-familiar British voice, murmuring softly in the darkness of her room.

“—up, please. Miss Jane, _please_ wake up. It is inadvisable for a trained _Avenger_ to be in Master Thor’s presence during the unpredictability of a Code Yellow; _you_ should _not_ be in this position. My sensors indicate you are waking, Miss Jane, please – it would be best to remove yourself to the other side of the room until Master Thor can be roused.”

She might have only just become one of the Tower’s inhabitants, but something made even the depths of her lizard brain want to obey JARVIS’ orders. Before she quite knew what was happening, she was rolling so quickly out of the bed that she and Thor shared that she toppled onto the floor with a painful _thump._

A breathless squeak was pushed out of her lungs, in part by the impact, but also because of the sudden and sleep-heavy way that one of Thor’s open hands smacked down on the side of the bed where she’d just lain. The covers sparkled faintly in the dark as large amounts of static electricity transferred between his hand and the cloth. She crab-scuttled backwards until she hit the far wall, and sat there staring with wide eyes.

“… JARVIS?”

“It is a Code Yellow, Miss Jane. All of the Avengers have them – the ‘super-equivalent of a panic attack’, as sir once coined it. You are lucky: Master Thor’s Code Yellow’s are only nightmares; they come very rarely; and they are quick to end. None of the others ever have to be called to subdue him, as they might be for one of the other Codes. According to the data on-hand, Master Thor should be waking up any minute; the flailing period is the shortest part of a Code Yellow, and usually indicates the nearing end of the episode. You are safe as long as you stay still until he realizes who you are.”

“Y-yeah,” Jane stuttered, still unable to tear her eyes away from the fitfully-tossing, subtly-sparking form on the bed.

“Miss Jane,” and JARVIS’s voice was full of gentle compassion and awareness, modulated so as not to awaken the distressed Asgardian, and risk scaring him worse before he got his wits about him. “Were the pattern to deviate, escalate, or otherwise endanger your person, I would immediately alert the rest of the Tower. And, considering what some of them are capable of, their reaction-times are fast, indeed. You have merely to wait until Master Thor regains consciousness. You are safe here.”

It didn’t seem like it to Jane, however much JARVIS tried to soothe her – she knew how much force it took to bruise skin and break bone, and knew that Thor had that much and more potential in him, completely aside from the electrical component of his abilities. She’d seen both at work, in a ghost-town in New Mexico. It was disconcerting to wonder if – in his sleep, and the throes of a violent nightmare – Thor would unconsciously recognize her as his bedmate, and modulate his strength and powers accordingly, or not. She wasn’t brazen enough to want to find out; she was an _astrophysicist_ , for crying out loud! Not a devil-may-care risk taker!

Even as she sighed and slumped against the far wall, thinking (panicking) over it all, Thor suddenly vaulted up in bed. The covers pooled around his waist, and his blue eyes flew wide open as he cried out, “No, _brother!”_

Jane shivered as thunder responded to her boyfriend, a counterpoint to the sudden silence of the room. She _knew_ her choice of lovers was an alien, with powers she couldn’t really comprehend. But that didn’t mean – after nearly two years apart, since the Bridge broke – that she was _used_ _to_ his subconscious displays of power, yet. Unlike too many of the humans who seemed to gravitate toward the Avengers, she had a sense of self-preservation, and it was healthy and strong.

Thor blinked and frowned. Almost before the haze of lingering visions lifted from his expressive eyes, his focus was snapping around. Blue eyes, backlit eerily by the moon through the far bay window, locked on her own, and Thor gasped, plaintively, brokenly, with a tiny note of horror, “Jane…!”

When he didn’t move, Jane belatedly realized he’d read the wariness in her posture, and was waiting for her to come to him – even when _he_ was the one who needed _her_ comfort. The knowledge pulled a tiny, besotted smile to her face, and she pulled herself to her feet. She was a short woman, but in a few quick strides, she was back at the bed, and climbed in like it meant nothing. It _was_ nothing, to ignore the faint bite of left-over static on her knees, for his sake. And his eyes – even sleepy and slightly unfocused – said it all: he’d known she was there. Her real-life Prince would never hurt her. She wasn’t silly to be cautious – but, at least here, with him, the caution proved to be unneeded.

“I’m here, Thor. You just surprised me, that’s all. I’m here.”

His face crumpled, and he leaned forward – slowly, so slowly, still wary of the look that had been in her eyes – to rest his forehead against her shoulder, and grip her waist with his huge hands. The softest tremble filled his limbs, making his fingers twitch on her hips, and his breath hitched. When she reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulder, drawing him closer, he let loose a full-body shudder, and huddled as close as humanly possible while still treating her like fine china.

“I’m here, babe. It was just a nightmare. It’s over now.” Jane hummed. She was a practical sort – she wouldn’t tell him it was going to be okay, because she didn’t know. She didn’t like making promises like that, especially after nightmares. The people those kinds of promises were made to were hurting and desperate, and it was – in her opinion – just cruel to tell them lies like that. Especially if it was something that would _never_ get better. (Though, for Thor’s sake, she hoped that his nightmares were a thing that wouldn’t haunt him forever. That would be unspeakably cruel.)

“Oh, Jane. Beloved.” Thor gasped, clinging to her. She was alive, and – what’s more – she had not betrayed him so painfully as the once-sweet Loki had. The All-Father and Frigga were his parents, and they loved him, but when it came to family, Thor was always conflicted. Jane wasn’t part of that mess; she was here, she was steady, and she was kind.

They spent the rest of the night like that. Eventually, Jane nodded off, and when she woke up, it was to find that she was still cradled delicately in his arms, with the midmorning sun streaming in their window. In spite of his lack of sleep, he’d remained unmoved, for her comfort, all morning long. He smiled down at her, and if it was a little cautious, it was mostly adoring and grateful. He bent down and kissed her forehead, helped her untangle from the sheets, and then get ready for a new day. He would be okay.

Jane was more real than a nightmare. Jane was more present that Thor’s twisted brother. Jane loved him as much as Thor loved her, and that was what mattered. They would make it work – with and around the nightmare-filled nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] девочка – little girl


	2. Thunder Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor hadn’t meant to do that. Lady Jane was doing important work, work she loved – he never wanted to distract her from her life’s joy.

Jane and Darcy had been living in the Tower for only a couple of weeks when Jane was called away.

As much work as she was able to do in the labs that Tony had provided for her – and good _God,_ was she able to do a lot; that man knew how to stock his labs! – she was still technically employed  by SHIELD. So when they called and said they needed her to head up a briefing for the senior agents and scientists, based on her findings, she really couldn’t say no.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t left the Tower to attend near-by conferences since she’d arrived… but she was always back by nightfall. Director Fury had indicated this was a procedural-building meeting, based on what they would learn about alien contact, and would last anywhere from three days to a week, depending on how quickly they could put their heads together and plan out for any and all contingencies that might occur in the future. (A small part of Jane noted that, yes, SHIELD _did_ have paperwork for everything, apparently – and was bemused to further realize that it was what amounted to a council meeting that came up with all that self-same paperwork. For some reason, she’d just assumed that it was agents like Phil – who loved the stability of paperwork and procedures – that just sat around in their spare time and came up with things, as needed.)

See, for Thor, understanding the human concept of instant communication via cell phone had been amazing, and he texted and called her three and four and five times a day, when he wasn’t right at her side. But Thor didn’t just understand in a nebulous way that this was the culmination of her life’s work, he _read her papers_ to understand the logistics as well as he could – and so when she went to various conferences, he left her phone alone unless he was texting to say in one go that the Avengers were Assembling, he loved her, and he’d see her whenever either of them got home. To put that novelty aside for her… Jane loved her boyfriend.

But this was the first time in a couple months – since she moved in – that they would be going longer than 24 hours without physical and visual contact. She was sort of worried that he would ring her in the middle of the conference, and with her phone off, she wouldn’t know.

As she stepped off the helicopter that had picked her up atop the Tower, and was led through the dizzying halls of the Helicarrier, Jane shook her head. Her boyfriend was a big boy – he’d lived most of his life without her. And he was smart, though the difficulties presented by the differences in their cultures often disguised that. Even if all that failed, he was surrounded by the world’s saving grace of superheroes; they’d protect him.

Jane breathed in, and Dr. Foster breathed out, as she calmly walked into a university-sized lecture room in front of a dozen peers and a couple dozen senior agents. Thor could take care of himself, and she needed to stop worrying long enough to do her job.

**-AIMS-**

Later, no one would be sure what set it off. It had never happened before, and so they hadn’t known what kind of signs to look for.

It started with the faint drizzle that had Darcy squealing, and then running out with Clint to go jump in the puddles. She and the Specialist came into the communal floor’s kitchen – where most of the Avengers had congregated – soaking wet, and bright red with laughter. Natasha had clucked disapprovingly, and dragged Darcy off to the bowels of Natasha’s booby-trapped floor to dry off and change – all the way down the hall, the team listened as Darcy babbled energetically at the Black Widow. Instead of being stabbed, or otherwise mutilated, for annoying Natasha, as would have happened to almost anyone else who tried something at Darcy’s level of excitement, the older woman smiled faintly and let her friend babble. Somehow in the passing months, she’d gotten Darcy to relax and open up, and if it meant that Darcy got through Natasha’s shields, too, none of them were going to complain any time soon.

Without looking up from where his nose was buried in a battered and yellowing copy of _The Hobbit,_ Phil reached out and snagged the tails of Clint’s shirt as he clambered up onto the countertop, intent on the vent above. His movement arrested, Clint looked down, saw Phil’s gentle but immoveable grip, and grew puppy-dog eyes. They were summarily ignored as Phil – still apparently engrossed in his literature – tugged lightly at Clint’s clothes until the sniper sighed and climbed down. Phil’s grip shifted to Clint’s hand, and he, too, was led down the hall – presumably toward the floor they both shared.

Tony had been on a lab-binge for 72 hours, and watching Phil and Natasha calmly and responsibly handle the two water-logged idiots, Steve decided enough was enough. He stuck around long enough to see Clint and Phil, and Natasha and Darcy, get on the elevator – and it was still strange to see Natasha so docile, and Darcy so dynamic – and then he pushed away from the table. His exit from the kitchen meant that it was once more empty.

Crossing down the hallway a couple of floors down, he passed by Jane’s empty lab, Bruce busy in his own – significantly more showered and cared for than Tony would be, after his binge session – and finally he approached the glass wall of Tony’s lab.

Thor loved Midgard, and often spent his day out in the world – flying, or seeing the city, or using the subway, or watching the children playing in Central Park, or anything else. So, as Steve forcefully dragged Tony out of his lab – after giving JARVIS the temporary shut-down codes Tony had given him, when he told Tony they had to come to a compromise between Tony’s odd hours and the new team bonding regiment that Phil had implemented – Steve felt comfortable in knowing that he knew his whole team was safe, and it was a normal, if rainy, day.

When dinner came and went with still no sign of Thor, Steve felt a niggling of concern begin. But sometimes the Asgardian got so wrapped up in the ‘strangeness’ of Midgard that he lost track of time, and came home late, but flushed with success and discovery, so Steve didn’t call for an intervention yet.

By lunch the next day, Steve was really wishing that he’d followed up on that mild concern. No one had seen Thor in almost 30 hours, and the storm had not yet let up. It had actually gotten worse, and had been centered – based on the time between lightning strike and thunder crashing – directly overhead for some hours.

Everyone gathered in the communal living room, brainstorming a plan of ‘attack’ to find Thor. It was Tony, with a blank stare around at all the idiots he’d invited into his Tower, that acted reasonably. He sighed, and asked, “JARVIS? Whereabouts on the tracking chips in Thor’s phone and watch?”

“Both, sir,” JARVIS announced, his voice just as skeptic of the team as Tony’s expression displayed, “are on Master Thor’s floor – along with Master Thor, himself. He has been in his room during the entirety of the time-frame which is the current point of discussion.”

“You are all surrounded by _state-of-the-art_ technology – stuff _I_ designed! Next time we are looking for one of our team, let’s use our heads instead of panicking, shall we?” Tony chastised. The team shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed at their overreaction.

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted hesitantly. The AI was hardly ever hesitant – amused, thoughtful, sarcastic, and annoyed, yes, but not unsure. That just wasn’t part of his overall function, especially with ready access to _years_ of human observation, an impeccable predictive routine, and a computer thought-process that allowed him to think much faster than his human charges. It got Tony’s attention immediately.

“What’s up, J?” he demanded, gaze staring sharply at nothing, as his ears tuned urgently into JARVIS’s response.

“Sir, for the last day and a half, Master Thor has not moved or made a request of any kind. Upon locating his person and relaying the coordinates to the team, I took the initiative to inform Master Thor of the panic. It was my hope that he would come down and reassure you all of his well-being. Instead, he did not react at all to my voice.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose, and as he started steadily toward the elevator, he barked, “Sit-rep, JARVIS!”

“Master Thor’s vitals – while within the parameters of the bodily functions of one who has neither moved nor eaten in over 36 hours – are still worryingly low. Combined with his lack of response, and extrapolated data on biological interactions as seen within the Tower…” JARVIS trailed off uncertainly.

“Spit it out, J,” Tony prompted.

“Sir, I believe that we are witnessing what… _could_ be a—Well, a Thunder Alert, sir. In comparison to the various reactions and states of mind that each of the inhabitants of this Tower are likely to adopt when faced with their own Alert, and the various states of being which Master Thor has already been witnessed in over the past few months in residence, the conclusion that this is Master Thor’s Alert is an 83 percent possibility.”

Bruce’s eyebrows rose, and he paused. When the rest of the team looked at him, he frowned and grabbed at Darcy’s sleeve carefully, stopping her, too. “The Other Guy isn’t really the best option for fighting off our panic attacks, you know? And I doubt Thor would recognize me as anything but someone who can become the Hulk if he’s panicking. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go up there, and – as a human with no combat experience, no special powers, _and_ one of Thor’s first friends, who risks getting hurt if he doesn’t recognize her – I don’t think Darcy should go, either.”

He winced apologetically at the brunette, and shrugged at Darcy, “If Thor doesn’t recognize you, do you really think he’ll control his strength if he attacks you? And do you really think that if he does – if he hurts you just a little, or a whole hell of a lot – won’t he be absolutely _crushed_ that he _did_ hurt you? That he betrayed your trust like that?”

Her face – which had been slightly alarmed by the man-handling – grew thoughtful, and she chewed on her lip. Her answer, when it came, was soft. “Yeah. You’re right, Bruce. Thanks.”

Natasha took one look at her stiff shoulders, and pulled away from the team to wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. Her free hand came up and began gently petting Darcy’s hair, and she looked over the head of curls with a closed expression. “I will stay here with Bruce and Darcy.” Watching the lately-familiar easy way that Darcy went loose in Natasha’s space, nobody argued. In the end, Tony, Steve, Clint, and Phil were the only ones to get in the elevator.

“Do you have any idea what might have set him off, JARVIS?” Steve demanded, displaying his focused ability to lead a team of misfits in the collected, authoritative tone. His fist opened and closed absently at his side, subconsciously seeking his shield.

“I am afraid I do not, Captain,” JARVIS sighed, a wince somehow audible in his synthetic voice. “The only thing that has been different lately is Miss Jane’s recent conference at SHIELD, but Master Thor was well aware of what was going to happen. He is a reasonable individual; I cannot fathom how her temporary absence would send him spiraling like this. However, it is the only large enough deviation to be candidate for a cause.”

“It could be a flashback without cause,” Clint offered quietly, avoiding eye contact. He leaned just a little into Phil’s supportive arm around his waist before clarifying bitterly, “Sometimes the memories just… catch me off guard. Most of the time, it doesn’t amount to much – without something to trigger them, it’s pretty easy to differentiate between reality and memory – but every once in a while. Well. You’ve all been there, when shit hits the fan, and I go Code Purple without warning.”

It went contemplatively quiet in the elevator for the few seconds that were left in the ride. When the doors slid open on Thor’s floor – just beneath the Pent House Suite on top of the Tower – Phil instructed, “Let’s do our best to bring him down gently, shall we? No reason to test the integrity of the building with _Mjölnir_.”

Everyone nodded as they cautiously made their way into Thor’s bedroom, unsure what they would find.

What they found was a thunder god staring blankly at the window as a torrent of water poured down it. He didn’t react to the lightning, or the thunder. He didn’t blink when his door was opened. He didn’t move a muscle when Steve cautiously called out his name. Thor was – for all intents and purposes – catatonic.

**-AIMS-**

Thor was a born ruler – and a chosen leader of a group of valiant warriors besides – so he understood what it was to have to place duty, on occasion, before family. He knew what it meant to want to spend time with his parents, only to be postponed because they had an important issue of leadership they had to deal with for the good of the people they ruled.

So he understood, in a roundabout way, when Jane was called by Director Fury. He knew it was part of her duties, that she was not abandoning him, and that she would return after doing what it was she did best. And he knew that, when politics or evil forces weren’t involved, Jane loved her job and the sciences she’d dedicated her life to – just as he loved his people, and cherished the presence and companionship of _Mjölnir._

_For the first few hours of the morning after Jane’s departure, Thor was fine. He wasn’t exactly happy to waken alone, and stewed like a hotheaded adolescent in his bed for some time, but he was functional. Eventually, he got up, showered, got dressed…_

_It was when he went to rise after lacing his boots up that he was struck by the memories. It was a crow that had winged it’s way up to the top of the Tower, and was fluttering before Thor’s window. On its own, it would have been innocuous, but Thor’s thoughts had been flickering. Caught between his two closest loves – his Jane, and his brother – and memories of the Battle of New York; of Loki’s betrayal on Asgard, then on Midgard; of the Chitauri, and the screams of the injured, the dying, the sick, and the grieving of humans mid-battle; of the near-loss on Jötunheimr; of his ultimate failure as son and brother and warrior and upcoming king; of his failure to keep his promise to Jane on his own; leaving it up to fate – an ill horror, should Idunn refuse Jane one of the Golden Apples – whether his chosen Lady would die in a few short human decades, or live with him forever as his Queen; and his failure to bring Asgard a Queen who would be of their ilk, should she be_ __allowed_ _ _that immortality, anyway._

_The heavy weight of all his morose thoughts – more and more depressing the longer he ruminated – all against the backdrop of the newly-rebuilt New York with the crow, with a pale, stripped twig in it’s talon that looked like a dull gold, was too much, too reminiscent of the things which hurt most…_

_And Thor grew still, his brother a haunt in his mind, even as the unaware bird fluttered off._

__… Loki, with eyes of emerald, hard and angry, just before the flight to_ _ _Jötunheimr_ __…_ _

__… Thor being dragged down to the training grounds by a furious sibling, challenged to prove his battle skills against Loki’s magical prowess…_ _

__… Loki, full of (false) sympathy, as Thor stewed helplessly in a Midgardian SHIELD cell…_ _

__… a particular summer’s eve, catching Loki with his first lover in the fields, and being sworn to frantic secrecy, adolescent embarrassment coloring Loki’s normally-pale face…_ _

_… watching with a plummeting gut, as a flash of magical steel, awash in blood, slipped free of the Son of Coul’s dark jacket, like a fin through the water…_

__… Thor and Loki, young boys tussling happily in the court yard, not yet even novices in their chosen crafts…_ _

_… a hand, clutching his throat viciously, another wielding a knife, plunged heartlessly into his side…_

_…wrapped tightly in a terror-hold by his younger brother, as the sky opened up around them, separated from their father during a recreational hunt…_

_… Loki, forever using and testing and sharpening his silver liar’s tongue on Thor, without regard for how Thor will fair in the end…_

_… holding the tiny bundle of his new baby brother under their mother’s guidance, in awe of the wide, trusting gaze…_

_… Loki, with eyes of blue ice, heartless and detached, during their last clash, atop the Tower…_

**-AIMS-**

For hours, the group did what they could to get through to Thor, getting progressively more and more creative.

Phil tried by calling his name in different tones of authority, panic, and irritation – hoping the warrior would respond to a figure of authority. Steve knelt in front of Thor and tried to bring him around physically – tapping his cheek, slapping his shoulder, rubbing Thor’s chilled hands between his own, and pinching skin. Clint tossed tiny projectiles at his head, caught items in his hair, and eventually tried head-slapping the god. Tony rigged a bucket to pour water over his head.

Occasionally, Thor twitched or frowned, grunted, shifted, and at one point out-and-out simply stood up and walked away. But as much as they got sporadic reactions, he was like a puppet – the lights were on, but no one was home.

No matter what they did, they didn’t get through to the blonde man. JARVIS sent reports downstairs, so Darcy and their other teammates didn’t worry worse, but it didn’t change the reality. Eventually, Bruce sent up, via JARVIS, a hesitant suggestion.

“Uhm… I—Betty was the only one who could… get me back, before I met you. Maybe it’s the same. Maybe we need Jane.”

While as a businessman, Tony understood the importance of meetings, he also understood as an Avenger, the importance of rescuing a friend from their darknesses. With barley a thought on the matter, he consulted JARVIS, and together they hacked into the Helicarrier and emergency-contacted Jane. Within two minutes, JARVIS’s phone was going off.

“Tony?” Jane was a little breathless, concern flooding her tone over the Tower’s speakers. “What is it? You all know what I’m here for – this is an emergency, Agent Hill said. What’s wrong with Thor?!”

Already he was tapping away on his phone; when Thor barely blinked at Jane using his name, Tony knew bigger measures needed to be taken. Distractedly, he muttered, “Hang on, Jane, gotta… set this up. Gimme just… one… second…! Ha, there! JARVIS, bring her up on the wall projector. Jane, look at the security camera in the ceiling corner to your upper left so we can see you.”

On the wall, the group saw a flustered Jane Foster, eyes wide and concerned, wisps of hair askew. “I—What? What’s going on, Tony?”

“Thor’s gone catatonic – we think it’s a Thunder Alert. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

Jane’s face paled. “He what?! What do you need me for, what can I do? How do I help? Is he okay?”

“Be at ease, Miss Jane, please,” JARVIS interrupted. “Your panic may make the situation worse. Please calm down. Master Thor has been unresponsive for some time. We made multiple attempts to garner his attention, to little success – he is subconsciously aware of stimuli, but does not recognize our presence or our attempts. If he recognizes only your distress, it could degrade the situation indefinitely. It is our belief that he is trapped in a memory of some sort. Master Bruce suggested that we contact yourself, as the one among us who is closest to Master Thor, in the hopes that you could reach him, as a Miss Betty Ross once did for Master Bruce.”

“We can see you on a projection on the wall, like a Skype call,” Phil informed her calmly, succinctly. “Try and get his attention, if you would – he was always very receptive to the modes of communication where he could both hear and see you.”

On the screen, while Jane’s concern didn’t leave her face, her stance shifted purposefully. She gained the air of someone who was more comfortable, if only because they finally had a job to do that was more than ‘sit and wait for results’. She took a couple of steps closer to the camera, and JARVIS obligingly took control of the view, zooming in.

“Thor, honey, it’s Jane. This is a special one-way call: you can see me, but I can’t see you. You know I’m okay, right? I’m standing right here, and JARVIS is showing you where I am, and what I’m doing, and what I look like right now. But I can’t see you. And if you don’t talk to me, I can’t hear you, either. The guys tell me you’re not doing so great, babe, and I understand – I have nightmares about New Mexico sometimes, and it’s hard to deal with – but if I can’t see you, I need to hear you. I need to know you’re okay, or I’m going to panic. Can you say something for me, Thor? Let me know you’re there, and that you hear me?”

Thor blinked, long and slow and heavy, and slowly turned his face toward the wall. The faintest glimmer of concern and confusion lingered on his face, though his eyes were still gazed and mostly unfocused. It was more than any of them had gotten out of him in hours.

“Keep going, Jane – he’s responding,” Clint encouraged softly.

“Thor, babe, I’m here. I’ll always be here. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, as many times as you need me to. But you can’t just leave me hanging. I need to know what’s going through that big blonde head of yours in order to help you through it. The guys are really worried about you – you know they have to be, because they interrupted my conference for it, when I know for a fact that Director Fury told them not to. I’m worried about you, too. Maybe it’s not something I directly can help you with, what you’re going through, but I can help you find a way, or find a person, or find _something_ to help – you’ve just got to let me know you’re there. Just let me know you hear me, that you’re listening. Can you do that for me, honey?”

Thor’s blue eyes were still too fuzzy, his expression still too lost, but he frowned, and croaked throatily, “… Jane?”

“Oh, Thor, I’m here!” And, with a faint note of relief in her still helplessly-worried voice, Jane babbled on.

Quietly, Tony waved the others out of the room, reassured that – even if Thor wasn’t _functional_ right now – Jane had it far better in hand then they ever had. Once out in the hall, he murmured softly, “J, keep an eye on ‘em?”

“Of course, sir. I will do my utmost.” JARVIS soothed, not as much tension in his electronic accent as before.

“And get me – _us_ – if anything goes wrong, if he needs anything, if—”

“If,” JARVIS interrupted smoothly, used to Tony’s speech patterns, “anything changes, sir. If anything requires your assistance, you will all be informed immediately.”

Tension seeped out of the various shoulders, necks, and backs in the suite, as the group moved toward the elevator. Downstairs, they met with an anxious Bruce, Darcy, and Natasha, easing worries. Upstairs, Jane talked Thor down from his strange and terrifying Alert. And throughout the Tower, JARVIS kept a silent, constant vigil.

He let Tony know later that night when Jane hung up, and when – immediately after – Thor climbed the stairs to the rooftop before flying off. He let Tony know that he man had accidentally left his watch and phone on the bedside table, so JARVIS could not track his whereabouts. He let Tony know how the unnaturally fierce storm, which had been pounding above their heads for almost two days now, had suddenly, and almost magically, dispersed.

And, hours later, he let a lab-binged Tony – who was, once again, being reclaimed for humanity by a weary Steve – that Jane had called moments ago, to inform the Avengers that a thoroughly distressed Thor had arrived on the Helicarrier hours ago, and it was only just then that he’d gotten to sleep so she could call. She said he seemed to be doing better, all things concerned.

The first Thunder Alert was over, truly over, and the Tower finally, completely relaxed, knowing its occupants were all safe and sane – if not still emotional wrecks, but that was the way of superhero life – once more.


End file.
